


He's Home

by TheDyingStory



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Happy Ending, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 15:18:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13929783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDyingStory/pseuds/TheDyingStory
Summary: There are times where Lance can’t help but feel… guilty. Like he’s a burden or that he’s only causing trouble. He’s not the only one here still hurting, yet he acts like he is. They all are all in the same boat. All Lance really needs to do is remind himself that they moved in on their own accord, and not just to help him, but to help themselves too. This living arrangement benefits all of them.





	He's Home

The weather is scorching hot, but, regardless of how hard the sun beats down on, he has work to do. Besides, it has been raining the past few days, and he hasn’t been able to work in the garden because of it. He isn’t about to risk wasting another day, especially when the clock is ticking.

Lance stumbles out of the old, large, log house that once belonged to an elderly couple that he had worked for (they were practically family in a way). They have been long gone now and weren’t ever returning. After winning a lottery, the elderly couple decided to live in a fancy house somewhere in the tropics. They had generously gifted the house and land to Lance.

As soon as he was able to, Lance took up residency here. He was familiar with the property due to his time working for the elderly couple, so it was easy to make it home. He was surprised, however, when his friends ended up moving in too.

Said friends had taken a trip to town this morning and would not be back until just before noon. That meant it is up to Lance to hold down the fort and get to work in the garden, along with some other chores.

Lance could hardly tell that it was raining yesterday with how dry the dirt is, only a few, stray damp places remain but would soon be sucked up by the heat. There’s a faint wind that rustles the large, pine trees that surround the yard, and only brings a touch of coolness to his skin. The sky has just a few small clouds, but those little clouds could very quickly be replaced by larger, grey ones. He doesn’t want the rain to come back, but he’s no rain god, and he doesn’t know any dances to scare away the ran.

As he approaches the gate to the garden, he tugs his shirt off and tosses it onto a fence post. Honestly, he isn’t sure why he came out wearing a shirt to begin with.

Grabbing a set of gloves from the shed and a few tools Lance figures he’d need. Although Lance doubts he’ll actually use them. His primary focus today is to get rid of the weeds and fertilize the plants. He’ll have to check for any diseased plant as well, but he doesn’t need to be concerned with watering them. He’s got some of his work cut out for him at least.

Lance doesn’t have a problem with getting down in the dirt, although it is annoying to clean the dirt from under his fingernails only for more to reappear. His hands have become a disaster since he started living here. They’re calloused and scarred, but stronger. This non-stop work has been taking a toll, and he finds himself more tired with every passing day. He doesn’t stop working though. It keeps his mind occupied.

Some of the weeds are difficult to tug out and even poke at him through his gloves, but he is able to rid the garden of its weeds. Luckily, Lance finds no diseased or dying plants too. In fact, everything looks better.

He used to have a lot of issues with the garden – like a _lot_. There were almost always several dead or wilting plants and every time he’d uproot them more weeds would sprout back up in seconds. Last year was incredibly rough, resulting in only a single bucket of decent potatoes and about a large bowl of carrots. He was ready to throw the towel in last year.

That was also the year his friends had decided to move in with him too. Well, Hunk chose to move-in first. He had practically kicked down the front door, a bag thrown over his shoulders, and a look of determination. He and Lance had a solid thirty-second staring contest after he said he was moving in before Lance had shrugged and said “okay.” Hunk sleeps in the spare bedroom across from Lance’s.

Within a week after Hunk had settled in, Pidge was kicking down his door with a suitcase in hand. She sleeps in the bedroom next to Hunk’s.

Not even a week after Pidge arrived, Matt, Shiro, and Allura _knocked_ on Lance’s door. Lance simply just told them that there were two spare bedrooms left and someone would have to share.

Luckily, Coran, the blessed man, didn’t move in but he had taken up residence in a neighbouring house. By “neighbouring,” Lance means it’s about a 20-minute walk away. He visits every now and then, generally with a pie or something else he cooked up.

While it was nice to have friends so close by, it can often be a little overwhelming. When it gets too crowded, and he feels like he might suffocate, he just heads down to the beach, digs his feet into the sand, and listens to the waves. Sometimes, though, the others will notice and give him some space much like today.

There are times where Lance can’t help but feel… guilty. Like he’s a burden or that he’s only causing trouble. He’s not the only one here still hurting, yet he acts like he is. They all are all in the same boat. All Lance really needs to do is remind himself that they moved in on their own accord, and not just to help him, but to help themselves too. This living arrangement benefits all of them.

They’ve become a family that relies on each other, one that stands sturdy together. It’s likely that they’re the reason why the garden isn’t terrible this year.

 _Yeah, they’re definitely the reason_ , he thinks while he puts the tools away. The garden shouldn’t need any tending to for a while now.

As he pats his jeans clean, he notes that the knees of them are starting to wear thin and are stained beyond repair. No cleaning detergents will save them now, but that’s why they’re his work jeans.

He puts his hands on his hips and looks around the yard. The grass has gotten longer. Mowing the lawn has never been his favourite chore. He hates the lawnmower they own because it’s old, rusty, and pretty much a death machine.

“I leave it for someone else to do,” he says to himself. He grabs his shirt from the post and pulls it back on, grimacing as he realizes just how sweaty he feels. A shower will be needed.

The house is cool and air-conditioned as he goes back in. Kicking his shoes off next to the door, he steps into the kitchen.

The kitchen is just how one would imagine a kitchen would look except it lacks the pile of dirty dishes because _Shiro_ is a gentleman and better than those other “hoes” who try to sneak in dirty plates while you’re washing the dishes… Lance can’t deny that he, in fact, is one of those “hoes,” except he’s not sneaky.

They had recently done some minor renovations after Hunk accidentally tore one of the cupboards doors on its hinges. So, all the cupboards are new as well as the countertops even though there are already dents and scrapes in some places. They also got new appliances as demanded by Hunk who nearly had a heart attack when he saw the old range. So they have a new, sparkly range, microwave, and refrigerator. Lately, they’ve been considering on getting a dishwasher.

The dining room used to be closed off from the kitchen, but the increase of roommates made it a little too crowded. It was Allura who had taken the pleasure of busting down the wall, merging the dinner area with the kitchen in a more modern, open-concept style.

There’s a small pile of mail on the wooden dining table. Lance flips through the envelopes looking for the bills, and when he finds none, he curses Allura. She got to them before him and is most likely paying them as we speak. Didn’t they all agree to split the cost amongst them?

_Sure, sure, Allura, you’ve got the money, but this ain’t even your house?_

Lance sighs and drops the mail back onto the table. None of the letters are addressed to him, so he’ll leave it there for the rest of the gang to snoop through.

His next stop is the laundry room which contrasts the kitchen as it is piled up with laundry. The clean, dry clothes are tossed into a basket which is shoved out of the crowded room. He tries to push as many clothes as he can into the washing machine but makes sure to not overload it. The last thing they need is a broken washing machine. The room is neater when he leaves it, picking up the basket and heads into the living room.

The room is quaint with a warm glow. There’s a clean fireplace in the corner of the room, and on the wall adjacent to it is a big TV that Pidge had brought with her. Next to the fireplace is an old armchair, and next to that is a large, antique bookshelf that was left behind by the previous owners of the house. He was actually surprised that it was left behind and even contacted the elderly couple about it, but they just told him to keep it. Lance only had a few books to place in it, but the others definitely put it to use.

Lance places the basket of clothes on a coffee table in front of a long couch that is parallel to the Television. Adjacent to the long sofa is a loveseat that is covered with a large blanket that has a picture of a roaring lion printed on it – Allura’s blanket. Lance grabs the sheet and folds it up, setting it on the arm of the loveseat, before sitting down on the long couch and begins folding the laundry.

Geez…

When did Lance become such a mom?

He honestly can’t remember the last time when he did something completely irresponsible, like the immature little shit Lance was, and now here he is folding laundry and cleaning the house. If he had to guess, last time Lance did something wild was probably… his 20th birthday which had gotten way out of hand – the silver ring on his finger is proof of that.

Lance pauses a moment to stare at the ring. He hasn't taken it off since he received it. It’s precious to him – always has been and always will be. But lately, he’s been thinking that it’s time to let it go. Time to move forward.

But he doesn’t. He stares at it for a long moment before continuing with his task. It doesn’t feel right to let it go just yet. Not today, at least.

The laundry is folded and placed neatly back in the basket for the others to go through. Lance picks out his clothes and takes it up to his room. His room is the master bedroom of the house because it’s _his_ house.

You know those beds that look like they popped out of a fairy-tale (the canopy beds)? Well, Lance has one of those. It’s one of the comfiest bed’s he’s ever slept on and _owned_. He remembers shopping for that mattress too; the classical montage of jumping on all the beds in a store without a care in the world. He’s wasn’t alone then. Keith was right there with him when they nearly got kicked out of the store.

There are photos of to prove it too, one of them is sitting on the dresser that is on the other side of the room. Lance approaches the dresser, shoving his clothes into it quickly, eyes stuck on a particular photo of himself with Keith at a park.

He was with Lance during a lot of things. Keith was with Lance during high school – they were best friends. Keith was with Lance when they both went to the same college, and they were together when they dropped out. Keith was there when Lance got kicked out by his family, and when everything seemed to fall apart. He was there to help Lance get back on his feet. Keith was with Lance when he moved into this house – _they_ moved into their house. For what seemed like forever, Keith had been a firm fixture in his life. But…

Then Keith chose to leave.

And he didn’t come back.

Lance… Lance was a mess, an absolute wreck. It took a long while to get over it, but even now the ache still lingers. First, he was in denial, and then he cried, mourned, and then he got angry, resentful, and he hated Keith for everything. Eventually, he accepted it and tried to move forward with his life. He’s still working on it.

He looks down at the silver ring, twisting it around on his finger. He should really take it off. Should let go and carry on.

Taking the picture from its place, he stares at it for a good few moments before placing face down back on the dresser.

A roaring of an engine comes from outside. Looking through the window, Lance sees an old, rusty, red pick-up truck pull into the driveway. The others are pilled up into the back of it, with Shiro driving and Matt on the passenger side. They start unloading themselves from the vehicle, groceries in hand.

Lance leaves his room to meet them at the door. He comes to the entrance just in time to catch part of a conversation that instantly grabs his attention.

“Like hell will I ever do that!” Pidge yells as she opens the door for the others whose hands are full of groceries.

“Do what?” He asks with a smirk.

Pidge snaps to look at him with wide eyes. She glares at him and says, “Nothing.”

Matt is the first to come through the door with two massive grocery bags in both hands, concealing the large head of his. “She wants to ask a girl out, but won’t listen to any of our advice,” he supplies.

“Ah, need some help with that,” Lance asks, reaching out to snatch one of the bags.

“Nope! I got this!” He slips past Lance quickly, nearly stumbling over his feet as he heads to the kitchen. Lance shrugs and looks back to Pidge.

“So, a girl, huh? Is this the same girl that saved you from nearly being blown to pieces?” Lance inquires as they both move out of the doorway to let the others throw. Shiro and Allura come in with just as large groceries bags as Matt had.

“Maybe,” she says, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “They all keep telling to do dramatic things or to just walk up to her and tell her how I feel. I’m not going to do that! Both of those are just asking for embarrassment.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Why don’t you invite her out the Summer Festival that’s happening this weekend? Hang out, have some, and then make her swoon with your made carnival game skills.”

“See, now that’s a good idea!” Pidge says, directing her speech to the others.

Hunk stops on his way to the kitchen to look back at the two of them. “I still think you think a candlelight dinner is the way to go.”

“Hunk, that’s for when you’re already in a relationship. Pidge is still clearly in the warming up to the possibility of a relationship stage. You have to go with subtle flirting,” Lance counters.

“Sorry, Hunk, but I’ll have to side with Lance on this one,” Pidge says. “But I’ll let you help with candlelight dinner when we get there.”

“Yes!” Hunk smiles and continues to the kitchen. Lance and Pidge chuckle.

“Are there any more groceries that need to be brought in?” He asks Pidge as he goes over to the door.

“Nope that’s everything.”

“Thought so. Those were some heavy looking bags they were carrying in,” Lance comments and closes the door.

“Lance?” Allura calls from the kitchen, her head peaks out from the side of the archway.

“Yeah?”

“Coran’s coming over tonight for dinner. Also, we might get a visit from Kolivan,” she says.

“Really?” Lance frowns. The last time he saw Kolivan was… two years ago. Why would he be coming for a visit?

“Yeah, Shiro invited him. We thought we could do some catching up on things,” Pidge explains.

That doesn’t surprise Lance that Shiro was the one to invite Kolivan. They’ve remained in contact with one another for some time. After all, it was Ulaz, an old friend of Kolivan’s, who got Shiro out of that wreckage of the base down in Olkarion. Shiro would be dead if it hadn’t been for Ulaz, but, unfortunately, Shiro still lost his arm. Sadly, Ulaz is no longer with them which had been a harsh blow to many especially Shiro.

So, Lance supposes that it makes sense. He can also guess that there’s more to inviting Kolivan over. After all, Shiro is well aware of how Lance feels about the Blade of Marmora.

Lance simply shrugs and says, “Okay.”

The way Pidge and Allura seem to relax doesn’t slip past him.

“Oh! By the way, Allura, you wouldn’t happen to notice what happened to the bills, would you?” Lance asks, eyes narrowing at Allura who smiles innocently.

“What bills?”

“Wait, were those the papers you had when we left?” Lance hears Hunk ask from wherever he is in the kitchen.

“Allura,” Shiro says in a disapproving tone.

Allura looks back at Lance with a glare. “Snitch,” she hisses.

Lance smirks and gives her a fake-apologetic shrug. He turns to Pidge, and asks, “Want to watch some TV? I think _the Revival_ is on soon.”

“Oh my stars, I can’t believe I nearly forget about the new season!” Pidge exclaims and vaults of the couch to snatch the remote.

“Hey, you aren’t starting it without me!” Matt says, and he slides into the living room, launching himself onto the couch.

Lance snorts he face plants into the cushions. “Stars, you’re like an excited puppy.”

Matts sticks his tongue out at Lance. Lance sits down on the couch, and Hunk comes in, making his way to sit next to Lance.

“Wow, you guys are such nerds,” Hunk comments.

“Takes one to know one,” Pidge says.

“That is true.”

***

Shiro’s hand on Lance’s shoulder shocks him out of his daydreaming. He jolts and looks up the other who gives a small, apologetic smile.

They finished watching the new episode of _the Revival_ a while ago and had all separated to do different things. Hunk and Allura decided to work on getting the preparations for dinner done, and Lance has no idea what the Holt siblings are up too.

Since it had cooled off a bit outside, Lance decided to take a nap on the porch swing. It’s nice when you aren’t doing any work out in the scorching heat. He thinks he managed to get about 20 minutes of rest until it had been disturbed by a sudden firm hand.

“Yeah?” Lance asks, rubbing his eyes.

“You ready to go?” Shiro asks. Lance frowns and gives the older man a quizzical look. Shiro returns his look with that of tentative surprise. “It’s the 21st today.”

Oh.

“I guess I lost track of things,” he says quietly.

Shiro nods, understanding, and says, “I’ll go start the truck.”

Lance hums and looks down at his hands. The ring feels heavy on his finger suddenly. It’s been officially two years now. He honestly can’t believe it. It almost seems like a weird dream. He never expected to end up at the two-year mark. Then again, he figures that his friends would have ensured that he would make it – by any means necessary.

Lance gets off the porch-swing and makes his way through the house to the front door. Shiro’s leaning against the driver’s side of the truck, and when he hears the front door close, he turns to see Lance. They give each other a silent nod, and then they climb into the truck. There’s a small bouquet of flowers resting on the passenger seat that he takes and set on his lap.

It looks like he made a smart choice in changing out of his work clothes before he took a nap. He’s in cleaner, more appropriate attire, for where they’re headed now.

“Let’s make it quick so we can get back before dinner,” Lance says. Shiro doesn’t say anything, but Lance can tell that he’s giving Lance an odd look.

Shiro pulls away from the house and drives out of their yard, heading down the road that will take them into town. It’s a twenty-minute drive that Lance spends staring out the window until they finally come to their destination.

The pick-up truck pulls up to the sidewalk. There’s a large, metal fence on the other side encasing the well-kept land. The cemetery is practically empty save for the same, few people who are here annually as well. Lance hops out of the truck with the bouquet in hand while Shiro sets the truck in park and quickly follows.

Lance could guide through this place blind if he needed to and he’s willing to bet Shiro could too. So, they take their time, keeping to themselves and letting the other mourners have their peace.

They come to a small headstone. In large letters, the name ‘KEITH KOGANE’ is etched into the dark marble. Under the name are a few words: “BOM, 2080-2103, A LOVED SON, BROTHER, AND FRIEND.”

It was short, not too complicated, but sometimes Lance wishes more could have been written. The short phrase doesn’t nearly grasp everything that was Keith.

Lance frowns tiredly at the grave. It’s been another year. Lance still can’t believe that it has been two years since Kolivan came knocking on his door with news that had left him in shock.

He had been told that it had been a great sacrifice. One that was key to ending the war. Keith took out a crucial weapon that left the strongest part of Daibazaal defenseless. But it had cost Keith his life.

The massive war that had wracked the country left thousands in despair. Even though Altea had won in the end, everyone paid the price, not just Keith.

Keith had chosen to join the Blade of Marmora, a rebel group that worked undercover in Daibazaal. Since Keith had Galra heritage, he was able to join the Blade and fight for Altea from the inside. Little did he know that it would cost him his life.

Sometimes, Lance doubts that Keith would have changed his mind if he knew he was going to die. He’d always had been the sacrificial hero type. If it meant saving thousands of lives, his didn’t matter. And logically that made sense, but sometimes Lance wished Keith had been more selfish.

It hurt when Lance came home from work that day, three years ago, and found that Keith had his bags already packed. Keith had avoided making any eye contact with Lance when he told him what he planned on doing. There are times when Lance wonders if he could have stopped Keith and convinced him to stay, but Keith was just as stubborn as Lance could be. Lance convinced himself that there would not have been any talking Keith out of it.

In the end, Keith has been gone for three years and has been dead for two of them.

Shiro rests a hand on Lance’s shoulder, causing him to flinch. Shiro mumbles an apology, giving Lance a sympathetic look. Lance’s eyes flicker up to Shiro before gluing themselves onto the headstone. He can’t bring himself to say anything, mostly because there’s nothing to be said. Everything that has haunted him has been spoken of already, and they’ve worked through.

Even so, Lance still feels bottled up.

“It’s going to better,” Shiro says.

He knows how Lance feels. They’ve gotten to know each other more since they lost Keith. They talked, they mourned, and they worked together. The others did too, of course. They were all friends with Keith, maybe they weren’t as close to him as Shiro and Lance had been, but they had seen him as family. It’s why they all came together, after a year of fooling themselves into thinking they could handle it.

Keith’s death had hit them harder than any of them could ever anticipate. There’s a hole now, and it hasn’t been replaced because it can’t be. A puzzle piece is missing, and it won’t ever be found.

Lance sighs and kneels down in front of the headstone to place the bouquet of flowers in front of it.

It’s time to head home.

* * *

It’s another hot day, but he’s sure that it’s hotter than it was yesterday. Then again he thought the same thing yesterday. At least, it was not raining harshly like had been a while ago. That was annoying to deal with.

His feet hurt, he’s sweaty, tired, and his back is even getting sore from carrying the bag over his shoulder for so long. But, he doesn’t stop moving not when he is so close to home.

Keith has been hitchhiking for the longest time now, and he has been putting with some of the wildest shit to get to where he is now.

Vaguely, he recognizes this dirt road, but he can taste home in the mist of coming off of the lake just across from him. Keith knows the way from where he is right now, but home is still ways away. If he’s right, he should just be outside of town.

But, it’s been a long three years.

The gunfire still echoes in his head every now and then, but it never compares to the cold-sweat he wakes up in almost every night. The nightmares have been weakening him emotionally, physically, and mentally. The explosion, the camp, the torment and humiliation, and then finally tasting freedom only to have it tainted with blood.

Besides that, there’s another thing that has been bothering him, even more, the closer he gets to home. He’s not sure if there’s even still one to go back to.

Keith has no idea what the others know or have been told. They might think he’s dead, they might have left, and he might still be alone and lost. If Keith could have contacted the Blade, he would have, but they’re not ones to be open about their presence. They might have disbanded now that the war is over.

Keith’s been shut out of the world and thrown out of the loop. He has no idea what exactly is going on. Not to mention, it’s hard to get help since no one really likes talking to a Galra. People glare at him. Even though he looks more human than Galra – they seem to just know. So, he’s been alone for this long, agonizing journey.

The land around him doesn’t seem to have changed, which is honestly a relief to him. He’s changed so much, so it’s nice to have something familiar and consistent be present.

A sharp pain travels up Keith’s foot, and he stumbles. Cramp. He moves to lean against a nearby tree, pulling his show off to massage his foot and get the muscles to loosen. The throbbing fades after a minute or so, and Keith drops to the ground.

Might as well take a small break. Grabbing the water bottle from his pack, Keith drinks it all in a single gulp. He’ll have to stop in town and get some more. For now, he relaxes against the barky surface of the tree and sighs, eyes closing. The fresh is air is nice, and the shade provides refuge from the heat.

After about five minutes, Keith gets back up, puts his shoes back on, and carries on down the road.

He follows the road around the bend, and he can see the small shapes of houses and building mixed in with the forestry. It’s about a 40-minute walk from the looks of it. The road is in between the shore of the lake and the forest, so it’ll lead him right to the edge of the town. He's not sure if it’s sweat or tears, but he wipes his face clean of it with the back of his hand.

The sound of a truck engine makes Keith instinctually move to the side of the road, out of the vehicles way. It comes up the slope of the road, towards him. He pays it no mind because like most others it won’t be picking him up for a ride. It’s a red pick-up truck, an old rusty one probably on it’s last few legs, and it passes him quickly.

Keith is still walking when he hears the loud screeching of the brakes. He glances back to find that the truck has stopped. The driver door opens, and Keith stops in his tracks.

Shiro.

“Keith!?”

He stumbles out of the truck, and they stare at each other in shock, disbelief. Then Shiro’s running over to him, and Keith barely has the chance to steady himself as they collide. Shiro’s firm arms wrap around Keith tightly. It takes Keith a moment to gather himself, and he tentatively returns the embrace. That’s when he notices the tense trembling of Shiro’s form.

“Stars, please tell me you’re real and that this isn’t some fucked up joke,” Shiro says – begs.

“Shiro…” Keith says. His mouth hangs open as he tries to find the words, but nothing comes to mind. So, he lets his actions speak for him, and he holds Shiro tighter.

“Holy shit…” A familiar voice says. Keith looks over Shiro’s shoulder to see Matt staring at them in shock. Keith can’t help but notice how different the Matt looks. He is missing his glasses, but he eyes are still as wide as ever when he stares in shock. “Keith?”

“Hey, Matt,” Keith says, and gives him a little wave. Unfortunately, Shiro takes that as a signal to move away from Keith. But just as Shiro moves, Matt is instantly there in his place. He pulls Keith into a hug that doesn’t last as long since he pulls away to ogle at Keith’s face.

“You look different,” Matt says. “Dude, where the hell have you been?”

“Um, it’s a long story…” Keith replies, shifting on his feet. He’d rather not relive any of it.

“That’s fine,” Shiro says, hooking his arm around Keith’s shoulders in a mock hug. “What matters is that your alive and here now. You can fill us in some other time. Let’s just get you home; that’s where you were headed, right?”

Keith nods, “Yeah.”

He almost can’t believe it when he’s ushered into the truck. Matt hops into the back, and Shiro returns to the driver’s side. Shiro turns the truck around and heads back down the way they came, towards home.

It almost seems to good to be true. Keith’s going to be home in just a few minutes. He can relax. He should relax. He’s going home.

 _Home_.

This can’t possibly be real. This has to be some dream. Keith’s going to wake up and find himself back in that hell hole. This is probably another twisted mind trick.

But the way Shiro keeps looking over at him, as though he’s making sure he’s still there, makes him feel… reassured. He’s not the only who’s not sure if any of this is real.

Then Shiro reaches over to rest his hand on his shoulder, giving it a little shake that brings him out of his shock.

“It’s good to have you back,” he says. His eyes are glassy, and Keith’s feels a pang of guilt for being the cause. But he’s pretty sure there are some tears in his eyes too, so they’re even.

It’s been way too long.

The ride, thankfully, doesn’t feel long as they pull up to an old, log house in a matter of minutes. He stares up at the house and is almost shocked how it looks the same from the outside as it did when he left three years ago. Something tells him the interior will be different though especially when he notices Hunk outside, chopping firewood.

Hunk used to visit all the time, but he sure never helped with things like chopping firewood. He looks up from his work to give them a confused look, no doubt wondering why they are back so early. Keith see’s Hunk gaze look over to Matt in the back and then look back to the passenger seat. His brows furrow even further.

Shiro moves to get out of the vehicle and Keith takes that as his cue to follow suit. The second he steps out of the truck he makes eye contact with Hunk whose eyes widen in shock. He goes pale and rubs his eyes as though they were playing tricks.

“What. The. Fuck!?” He yells, and Keith winces. Clearly, Hunk has gained quite the potty mouth since he’s been gone. “No. No way.” He’s shaking his head but walks forward to stand right in front of Keith. Suddenly, large hands are holding Keith’s head, moving it around as Hunk checks him over.

“It’s him, Hunk,” Shiro says with a faint hint of amusement in his voice.

“Trust us, we checked,” Matt comments.

“It’s really you?” Hunk asks, ignoring both Shiro and Matt.

“Yes, Hunk, it’s really me,” he huffs. However, that reply seems to snap something in Hunk because in the blink of an eye there are tears in his eyes and then Keith’s pulled into a bone-crushing hug.

“O-oh stars! We all thought you were dead!” Hunk chokes out.

Keith stiffens in Hunk’s hold.

 _Dead?_ They were told that he died? That can’t be right. Keith tries to remember the last time he came in contact with his allies. He tries to think of the what happened that gave them that impression that he was gone. The only thing that comes to mind is when he took out the Galra’s weapon by flying one of their crafts into it…

Okay, so that would definitely have them thinking he went down with the plane. But he didn’t. Instead, Keith had jumped out of the plane last minute, parachute in hand, and ended up landing, unarmed and alone, in Galra territory. The second he was spotted by Galra soldiers he was taken to a prisoner of war camp. He doubts that Altea is aware that those camps are still running and holding their lost soldiers.

Hunk’s babbling turns into downright sobbing, so Keith starts to reassuringly rub his back.

“I’m alive, Hunk,” Keith says, “Not dead. But could you loosen your grip a bit? I’m having trouble breathing here, bud.” Thankfully, Hunk’s death grip loosens up. Otherwise, Keith would surely be dead. Death by hugs sounds a lot more pleasant than a fiery explosion.

“What happened, man?” Hunk manages to ask, his sobbing finally turning into little sniffles.

“Long story. I’ll explain later,” Keith answers. He just wants to see everyone. He just wants to relax and feel safe again.

“Okay, but you better not forget,” Hunk says, and he finally moves back out of Keith’s space. “Let’s get you inside. I’ll whip you up something to eat. Seriously, you feel like nothing but a pile of skin and bones right now, and that can’t be healthy.”

Keith lets himself get pulled along by Hunk into the house, and Matt and Shiro follow them. It’s been a while since Keith’s had a home-cooked meal. Most of his food has been consisting of things he could scavenge or buy when he managed to get some spare change. The idea of eating Hunk’s cooking makes his stomach growl.

When they enter the house, he notes that he was right in that fact the interior changed, although not by much. That TV’s new, and he doesn’t remember there being that many books in that antique bookshelf. The house looks more lived in than it had before.

What surprises him the most is that Allura and Pidge are relaxing on the couch, watching some movie that Keith doesn’t recognize. Pidge look back at them as the door closes.

“You guys are back early-” Pidge says, and then, like everyone else, is speechless. Her eyes widen, and her mouth hangs open. Allura looks at Pidge, perplexed, and then looks back at them. Her reaction is more sudden.

“Holy fuck!” Allura vaults over the couch which, honestly, surprises the hell out of Keith. She grabs his shoulders and looks him up and down and then she forces him to spin around because apparently, she needs to look at his back to make sure that he’s real. “What?! How?” She says after she brings him back around to face her.

Hunk and Matt laugh at Allura’s reaction. Look’s like Keith’s not the only shocked by her.

“Long story,” Shiro says for him. “We’ll get it later.” Shiro and Matt sit down on the loveseat, and Hunk heads to the kitchen to make something up for Keith.

“Um, no. I’d like to know right now,” Pidge says from her spot on the couch.

“Pidge,” Shiro gives her a look and Pidge slumps.

“Fine, but I need it in detail,” she says.

Internally, Keith thanks Shiro for cutting in. He’s not sure if he’s ready yet. A lot has happened, and a lot of it he would rather them not know.

“Come on, sit down with us,” Allura says, and she moves to guide him to the sofa. But Keith frowns. Almost everyone’s here, except Coran and Lance.

_Where’s Lance?_

“Garden,” Pidge says and gives him a knowing look. Oh, he said that out loud.

Keith nods and says, “Okay, thanks.”

He leaves them in the living room, and where they’ll patiently wait. He passes through the kitchen where Hunk gives him a small nod. He lets the drastic changes of the kitchen pass him as he exits through the back door. The lawn has been freshly cut, he notices, as he heads to the fenced up the garden.

As he gets closer, he can the soft humming of a song that helped him fall asleep at night for the longest time. Over the fence, he can just see the to top of a head with shiny brown hair.

He opens the gate and steps into the garden. But then he stops just a few feet behind Lance.

What should he say? ‘ _Honey, I’m home! And not dead like you thought?’_ No, that doesn’t sound like him. Something tells to just call out Lance’s name, but his throat closes-up on him.

Lance doesn’t even notice his presence, completely entrance on picking small weeds. He wonders how much Lance has changed. He wonders if Lance still loves him. A voice hisses, _no, he hates you. You left him._ He wouldn’t blame Lance for hating him. For wanting nothing to do with him. He’s probably moved on.

Something sparkly on Lance’s finger catches his eye. First, he wonders why Lance isn’t wearing work gloves, but then he remembers that their work gloves always liked to disappear on them. Second, he realizes that that ‘sparkly thing’ on Lance’s finger is.

It’s his ring.

The one he gave Lance on his 20th birthday when he drunkenly thought that Lance was the man he wanted to die for. He still thinks that except he’s sober now rather than drunk. But that’s not the point.

The point is that Lance is still wearing that ring.

He hasn’t given up on him yet.

“Lance,” his voice comes out soft, and quieter than he intended. But Lance hears it anyway, and his movements freeze.

He stays still for a long moment. Not moving, and he doesn’t even appear to be breathing.

“Lance,” Keith says again, louder this time, and he ignores at how it cracks.

Slowly, Lance stands up. He moves like he’s being held at gunpoint, slow and cautious. He turns around and looks at Keith with scared, wide eyes. His eyes are still as blue as ever, but he hates how they look at him.

“Keith,” Lance whispers. He eyes are searching, rapidly moving over Keith’s figure. Keith can only imagine what Lance is thinking, but he’s pretty sure that Lance’s doesn’t believe that he’s here right now.

Keith takes a step forward.

Lance takes a step back.

Keith sighs and stays in his spot. They’re at a standoff. He’s not sure what’ll happen if he tries to push against this barrier between them.

“Lance,” He says again. He gathers all his courage and continues, “I know you were told that I was… dead, but I’m not. I’m really here.”

Lance says nothing.

“I know you that you’re mad at me,” he says, “and I know you probably don’t want anything to do with me right, now. I can leave if you want me too-”

“Don’t!” Lance chokes out. He looks panicked like Keith leaving is the worst thing right now. Frankly, Keith feels the same. He doesn’t want to leave again. “Don’t… Please,” Lance says.

There are tears in his eyes. Oh so desperately does Keith want to wipe them away and hold Lance. He doesn’t even notice that he’s moving forward again.

Lance doesn’t move away from him this time, but he does tense up when Keith cups his face, running his thumb over Lance’s cheekbones. Shaky hands reach up to cover Keith’s, grabbing a hold them and squeezing them tightly.

Lance eyes wide and he meets Keith’s gaze. “Oh, stars. You’re – you’re…!”

“I’m here.”

Instantly, Lance wraps his arms around Keith’s shoulders, bringing him into a tight embrace. That’s when the sobbing starts, and at first, it’s just Lance, but then _everything_ comes crashing down on Keith and finds himself trembling Lance’s arms.

Lance pulls away, only slightly, to presses kisses to Keith tear-stained cheeks.

“You’re home,” he cries. “You’re home.”

With desperation, he kisses Lance. He kisses him until he can’t breathe. It’s been three years without so much as an embrace, and he’s finally safe and sound, in the arms of someone he loves, surrounded by his friends.

Finally, he’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in the works for a while. Finally got it done. Hope you all enjoyed it.
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://the-miss-mousie.tumblr.com)


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